


Learn To Fly

by rockbrigade



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockbrigade/pseuds/rockbrigade
Summary: You know what they say? Don't reshuffle your cards because you may end up with a Joker!The ISEF Rokkaku is a deep space exploration ship, carrying out its continuing mission known as Deep Space Six. Far away from the known universe, civilisation, and any signs of intelligent life (and that's just the fighter pilots!), it's a wonder how the crew keep up their spirits without getting Space-Crazed. Especially now Bane has to adjust to working with a new wingman who won't stop telling puns over the comms! That's enough to make anyone want to fly into the nearest sun-- wait, I'm joking!! I'm joking, it's not THAT bad!!Based on theheadcanon/AUthought up bybookwyrmlingandsolosorca, and intended to exist in the same universe assolosorca's Space AU series, here's a story about a bunch of hexagons navigating space. Space AND interpersonal relationships. It's a twofer!





	1. Automatic War

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425852) by [SolosOrca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolosOrca/pseuds/SolosOrca). 



You get used to the clanging and the groaning metal. You stop noticing the hundreds of footfalls changing in volume, or stopping altogether, as the gravity module adjusts itself. The muttering of the computer system asking itself questions and calculating solutions during Sleep Cycle Hours is soothing after a while, you know? The kinda noise that lets you know the ship is sleeping. But there's no fucking noise in all of space like the way every internal comms speaker in the whole great flying sardine can that was Home, screamed itself (and every crew member aboard) awake with the shrill feedback whine of the Captain's mic turning on. Bane, half-asleep (which is half more awake than he'd like to be), dug a finger into his ear and groaned. "Havta fix that fuckin' mic…" he said, to no one, face full of pillow. 

Good morning crew!! It's 0600 hours ship time, which means!!! It's the start of a brand new Day Cycle!! Yay!! 

"Mornin' Cap'n," Bane muttered, as if the comms for ship radio went two ways, which, for all the days when Bane's Day Cycle began in less cheerier spirits than this, he was deeply thankful for. He lay motionless, listening to the Captain's voice bounce around the ship, and the corresponding first, weary noises of the crew waking up. He closed his eyes and thought about muting the comms, and was just drifting off into a garbled stream of images, where all the Ship Suggestions the Captain read out were real mechanical items that Bane was expected to build, except every single one of them needed copper wire and he hadn't seen any of that since two shore leaves back. Then one of the Reserves nudged Bane's exposed skin with the cold metal of its faceplate and shocked him awake. "Alright, alright, jeez. I'm up," Bane heaved himself out of bed and sat on the edge of the bed frame, looking down at the Reserve that had woken him. It tilted its head with a small whir and its rear antenna swished expectantly. Bane put his hand out and patted it on its motion sensor, which it 'enjoyed' or whatever. Lotsa folk get uncomfortable when Bane tells them the Reserves are happy or sad about this-or-that, whatever, next time say 'it works better if you do that', 'the Reserve Squad Robots work better when I'm nice to them,' whatever. 

Okay! So we're all bright and ready for work on this wonderful Day Cycle, let's get moving with some stretches for today!! Alright, all together!! One, two!! 

Bane got to his feet, and moved in time to the Captain's voice, letting his muscles feel that soft subtle ache and the fizz of blood flowing back as he relaxed them. Probably no one else ever did the stretches, 'cept Bane, but probably no one else spends the day hauling around scraps of metal even in Hi-Grav. The Captain finished his morning radio exercises with a cheer and a round of applause, and Bane moved on to his own sets of push-ups and pull-ups and crunches, and he asked the computer to heat up his shower, and he asked the printer for a black coffee, and the Reserves brought him the document capsules that rattled their way into his cabin down the Pneumatic Tube. Official Repair Request, quantity four, Credit Balance Statement, Notification of Personnel Reassignment, yeah yeah. Bane sipped his coffee and consulted the computer about his schedule for repairs.

He wrote out his Request Acknowledged receipts and fed them into capsules, and fed the capsules into the waiting mouths of Reserves, who one-by-one in sequence took each capsule back to the Pneumatic Tube and nudged the contact to seal the vacuum. Right. Then shower, then morning drill. Bane liked his shower on classic, water hitting his face and the soap activating only when you manually scrub your hair or skin. He let the water run for a while -- today's drill is the first with the new Wingman -- Bane had no intention of rushing to the hangar bay. Sure, he toasted and drank his farewell to Spades, the last night before his reassignment. Hell, he even piloted the shuttle to the space station drop-off, where Spades could get back to ISEF for his new placement. There are worse ways to leave Deep Space Six, and there's also a reason why the System Failures -- the losers chained to the ""civilised universe"", known to Deep Spacers everywhere as ISEF-SFs-- like to call the mission Deep Six. So far gone out there in space, might as well be dead! Yeah, and plenty of Sixers have ended up that way. Well, Bane scrubbed at his hair and the bubbles started foaming up around his fingertips, not Spades, he's just another ISEF-SF now. But getting used to a new Wingman? Bane sighed out the phrase, "Ball-ache!" and the computer apologised for not hearing his command.

He dressed and took the gravity lift down to the hangar bay. There they were, and Bane always grinned when he saw them, his pride and joy, the birds. Bane had arrived on the gangway that fed out from the gravity lift: an elevated platform that gave an overhead view of every fighter-plane in the hangar, and he stood for a while, as he did every morning, leaning with his elbows on the barricade and looking down at the scene below. Bane had the birds laid out in a way that was particularly fucking spectacular to look at, sayin' so himself: a ring of six with the 7th in the middle, each one falling under a heavy-duty lamp, so they looked like pieces of art in a museum. And they were, really, because most of them were out of commission, propped up by rusty traction vehicles or just cubes of compressed recyclables that hadn't been repurposed or jettisoned yet. Some had partial wings, others shattered optics glass, and two looked fine, not showing the scars of the mission that had left them flightless. One of Bane's deputies came down in the cargo lift, and stopped it at the gangway to let Bane get on.

"Mornin' Chief!" the deputy said, but Bane sneered his displeasure at being called by his rank, and the deputy laughed at him. "All ready for the big test!" he gestured to the large traction cart he was handling. In it, it had the standard engine and cockpit software diagnostic tools, plus spare cables, oil, and even the automatic buffer wand -- Guaranteed To Get Your Metallics Shiny! From Structure Beams To Printing Machines! Point And Click For A Clean That's Quick! -- and Bane made a face when he saw that. "Well, I don't want any of our birds to go out not looking their best! Y'know, for Spades' sake." 

"Spades kept his bird shiny alright," Bane said, his voice made weary by the memory, "I just, y'know. Every time I see one o'those I'm just disappointed it can't make people buffer!" and Bane cackled and slapped his deputy's shoulder. Bane couldn't hear the deputy's tongue clicking for the sound of the cargo lift, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. 

And when the lift reached the bottom of the hangar bay, they walked along the aisles with the birds looming above them, until they reached the foremost two -- that is, the two nearest to the flight deck, ready with gravity-cranes poised above, to move them onto the launch pad -- and they set about tuning up Spades' bird. It was still Spades' bird, even though Spades was Space-knows-where, because it still had his emblem, a stylised 7-of-Spades from the archaic deck of cards, painted on the side. Well, not for much longer, and Bane rooted around in the crate for the paint dissolver. 

"Know anything about your new Wingman, Bane?" the deputy yelled down from the cockpit, where he was running software checks on the OS. 

"He'll be a Flyboy," Bane called back, with a shrug, "us Flyboys are all the same." Bane ducked under the nose of the plane to take a look at the engine compartment, but he'd already cleared it for flight a week ago, and the bird hadn't been out since. He made his way back over to the crate and leaned against it, looking up at the cockpit. "Though Spades said he'll send all his prayers to the Universe that I get some eye-candy this time!" He laughed, and the deputy grinned down at him with some mischief. 

"Hey, what if it's a chick?" And Bane's face set the deputy into hysterics. 

"Space, I don't have a fuckin' deathwish! There's a reason why it's FlyBOY and WingMAN, someone oughtta get that clear!" But Bane laughed in his usual good-natured way, and so did the deputy. 

"I REALLY hope it's a chick now, Chief," he said, and Bane tutted at him. 

"First ya wish chicks on me, then ya call me Chief, get outta here! Ya wanna undo all Spades' thoughtful prayers? Gimme a break!" The little chime that signalled an internal comms message broke out over his complaint.

Bridge to Hangar Bay. Are preparations for this morning's drill complete?

"Sae!" Bane yelled, his face tilted up to the distant roof of the hangar bay, as if he expected his voice to carry all the way up to the bridge without the use of comms, "You wouldn't give me a chick for a Wingman, now would ya?" There was a pause. 

Wouldn't I? Gosh I just don't know! 

Bane made a noise of panic and frustration.

Are preparations complete, Bane? 

"Yeah, yeah. We're ready to go. No sign of--" 

Good, patching you through to the Helm. 

Bane bit the inside of his cheek and listened to the tapping noise of the comms line, waiting for the helmsman to pick up. It clicked open. 

Morning Bane! Let's do some mapping! 

"Ryoh, I'm ready to get suited up but the newbie's not here at all?" Bane turned in a full circle, but from the bottom level he could see nothing but the mechanics crew and bits of fighter plane.

Oh right, Joker will be late. That's the callsign you're gonna need to remember -- Joker.

Bane grumbled, and Ryoh picked up on it. 

Just like everyone else on the ship Joker's got another job! Don't worry, I'll ping your bird when Joker's launch-ready.

But it's impossible to stay mad when you're out in your bird. There wasn't a whole lot out in this particular part of the universe. Today's mission is determining the scope of this newly-discovered asteroid belt, and whether or not the asteroids indicate any kind of orbital plane. Ryoh and Icchan looked over the navs data and declared all the signs are good for a nearby planet, but there hasn't been a planet discovery in a long time, and, Bane sent a radar pulse into the universe about his plane, they probably just wanted to pick up everyone's spirits. Still, even when sweeping the great nothing like some glorified searchlight, Bane felt best out in his bird. Really, the headspace was good, though apparently perfectly talented pilots failed their deep space aptitude tests because they can't stand the Nothing. They say the Nothing gets inside of you, 'til you don't even know there's a whole plane between you and Space. Not that there's a lot of plane, Bane checked his lateral optics, then he keyed over the dashboard touchscreen to check the black box was recording properly, not a lot of plane between a Flyboy and Nothing anyway. He'd broken birds down to their shells and wires enough time to know precisely how much plane there is. And it's not lots. The radar pulses weren't picking up any gravity fields. Nearby planet, bullshit.

ISEF Rokkaku to Feathers, do you copy?

That was Ryoh again, and Bane pressed the contact on his helmet to connect the mic up to the plane's comms. "Loud and clear, Rokkaku." 

Joker has launched and is awaiting drilling instructions. Comms will be opening a channel for you now. Play nice! 

Ryoh had this weird laugh, probably a Symbiont thing, and it fizzed up the comms every time he did it. Bane reached for his ear on instinct, but his fingers hit the side of his helmet, of course. And the tapping of the line stopped with a click, and Bane heard Saeki saying, "Channel open, go ahead, Feathers," and Bane had that weird feeling that someone was listening, waiting for him, expecting him to speak. Probably because they literally were. Bane cleared his throat with the awkwardness of addressing a stranger without benefit of any information about them.

"Feathers to Joker, do you copy?" Bane felt like there was a whole fucking Earth year in the static silence before Joker replied. 

"This is Joker." A soothing, deep voice near nose-dived Bane into a tailspin of relief. Figuratively. Bane's a damn good pilot. "I read you, Feathers." There was a pause, "And no, I write all my own material. Pfft!" 

Bane narrowed his eyes, "Um. Say again, Joker?" But Ryoh's voice interrupted,

Oh Feathers, you're gonna have such a good time with this guy! 

Practically all of Ryoh's sentences were sarcastic -- whoever made up the stereotype that Symbionts are a serious species never met this guy -- but, Bane frowned and shrugged for no one out in his cockpit, he couldn't get the bent of this one. "Hey, what can I say?" Bane said this, because he really wondered what to follow up with, "It's my aim in life to have a good time with as many guys as I can. Joker, do ya know how to put your radar into mapping mode?" 

There was static on the comms line, and it seemed to Bane like Ryoh was stifling a laugh at his expense. Then Joker's smooth voice started again, "I don't know how to do that… I haven't been a pilot for long-itude," 

"What," the word dropped from Bane's mouth before he could stop it.

"If you could explain the process, you'd have my latitude. Pfft! …You know. Like gratitude." 

This time the static was from Bane's end of the line. He scrunched his face so hard he felt the blood in his face tingling. "Sorry Joker but, what the fuck," he said, and Ryoh's fizzy laughter filled up the line. When he stopped, he just said,

Oh, Feathers. Oh my Stars. Feathers. 

"I think I know why your callsign is Joker now. Wow. Christ." Bane said, and Ryoh laughed again.

Feathers you don't even know the half of it. This is great. 

But Joker's voice flowed through space like he'd never heard their digs at him, "Feathers, I don't know about mapping mode. I'm LOST. I need DIRECTIONS. I'm yet to find my BEARINGS with this plane." 

He'd barely finished speaking before Bane broke out into an incredulous cackle, "Oh shit, what the fuck?" Bane's eyes were stinging with laughter, but he couldn't wipe his eyes thanks to his helmet, "Shit dude, I'll give you a good bearing alright," and he took a moment to open the console on his dashboard touchscreen, to give himself a chance to compose himself. 

Oh, already? I knew you guys'd love each other. 

Bane held his middle finger aloft, as if he thought Ryoh could see it, while knowing he couldn't. "Okay, Joker, see the settings menu on your dashboard screen?" He ran through the rest of the drill, and Joker picked it up fast, the only delays they had were when he paused to think of more shit jokes to answer with. They never stopped. The jokes, the jokes never stopped. Minutes before Bane was meditating on the vastness of the Nothing out in space, but now he'd met something far more infinite and it was this fucker's dedication to shit jokes. At first Bane had been off guard, he'd laughed, he swore, he complained, and still they came, and Bane found himself suddenly frantic, looking to outdo each reaction so the next was more extreme than the one that preceded it. He'd gone past, "I hope a meteorite clips you for that," onto, "Dude, if the Universe has any justice in it your engines will fail ya," through to, "Fuck man, I fix these birds for a living, don't make me down you!" And suddenly Ryoh was saying,

It's ten-hundred hours in ship time, boys, time to wrap it up for today. Bring the birds back home. 

And Bane was the one to say, "Is it really that time already?" There were a few moments of silence. "Err, roger that, Rokkaku. Joker, follow me back to base." 

The birds landed safely in the landing beams which guided them through to the air-locked hangar. Both birds were safe and accounted for, and Saeki cheerily let them know he was closing the comms channel. Once the ship was closed behind them, the green signal light in the hangar let them know they could now disembark from the birds and make their way to the personnel airlock and decompression chamber. Bane glided out to the airlock, aided by the zero-G, and pressed the contact to start decompression. He turned to see Joker emerging from his plane and crossing the hangar with a sort of natural grace. The blinking of the green light in the hangar wasn't the best for seeing past the visor of the pilot suit helmets they were both wearing, but the pilot suit itself didn't like to leave much of the bodyline to the imagination. And Bane found out while he waited on the airlock, that Joker had the kind of body he'd like to get to know. Bane raised his eyebrows and made the slightest nod of approval, mostly knowing and partly hoping, his helmet would obscure it from Joker's knowledge. 

The panel on the airlock flashed its soft green, and Bane opened it. The two of them proceeded into the chamber, and Bane closed them in again from the controls on the inner side of the door. The personnel airlock was, as expected, much smaller than the hangar, and considering that Bane, and as it turned out, Joker, were both big guys, the space was almost uncomfortable in how intimate it was. Especially in these skin-tight pilot suits. Especially with comms switched off, and Bane was unable to crack any jokes about how awkward it was. But Bane took full advantage of the knowledge that Joker could not see his facial expression, any more than he could see Joker's: he watched Joker holding the lower part of his helmet -- a substitute for holding his chin -- and with his head tilted to one side. And Bane felt the hairs prick up on his arms when he realised Joker was watching him right back. Bane's ears popped, and the way Joker's hand reached for the side of his helmet gave away that he felt it, too, and soon the latch on the lock clicked, and the computer's voice told them they could now safely exit the chamber and remove their helmets. 

So they did. They stepped out into the corridor that would take them to Decontamination And Quarantine, a standard part of boarding procedure on a Deep Space Exploratory mission, and Bane touched the fastening modules on the neck of his pilot suit. And even as it was releasing, he thought, Shit what if Joker thinks I've got a face like smashed spanners? -- and more troubling, What if Joker's got a face like smashed spanners? But the suspense was gone in an instant, because he tugged off his helmet, and when he looked over his shoulder he was just in time to see it. Joker's helmet releasing from its catches with the 'pop' sound Bane couldn't stop himself imagining from years of flying, but off it went with a flourish of red fire just behind it, as Joker shook himself free, and a stunning cascade of red hot waves, gathered in a ponytail, showered itself back down Joker's neck. And now he had access to it, Joker swept his gloved hand over his hair and under his ponytail, and his distracted face, with its heavy eyelids and plump, pouting lips, glanced away and all around, and would not have noticed Bane's jaw dropping open. He wouldn't have noticed Bane's jaw dropping right open, that is, if the words "Oh shit, thank you, Spades," hadn't dropped out with it.

Joker's cold, blue eyes met Bane's, and it was the kind of stare that said, Ya done fucked up, boy!, and it was also the kind of stare that sent a shiver down Bane's spine -- but like, a GOOD shiver, yikes. At the same time, in the hard crease in Joker's forehead, there was a kind of interrogation waiting to happen, and it made Bane uneasy, and thrilled him all at once. But Bane realised he had to roll his tongue up from the floor and pick up for his faux-pas under the sharpness of that stare, so he said, "I mean, Joker! Space, it's tough gettin' used to a new wingman all of a sudden, my bad!" He paused and put his arm out, a certain portion of his brain already firing out action-station signals at the thought of being touched by this guy, and when they shook hands, he barely steeled himself away from making an excited yelp. But he said, "Good work out there! Nice to see ya in the flesh," as he spoke, he gave Joker a very obvious and approving look over, and then flushed up to his ears with regret. 

Joker glanced down at his own pilot suit. Then he just said, "Oh. Likewise." with the slightest bow of his head. Then there was silence, and in it, Bane could just hear the fabric of Joker's pilot suit-gloves creaking as he fidgeted his hands into fists and out again, while he glanced around the corridor as if he were looking for an excuse to leave. 

"Er… Ready for Decontamandtine?" Bane said, with a little grin. The way Joker looked up, a little wide-eyed, his lips parted by the smallest degree, curious and caught off guard all at once, was definitely bad for Bane's health. "Aah, that's what I call it, I gotta have nicknames for everythin'" Bane swept the sweat of the back of his neck and laughed, "I mean Decontam And Quarantine -- don't worry it's just sterile rays, it's not like showering together or whatever," he laughed, and as he laughed he winced at his own betraying bastard of a mouth. 

"Okay… Feathers…" Joker said it like he was tasting the word in his mouth.

"Oh! Nah, out of the birds, you can call me Bane!" Joker watched and listened with a serious set to his stony face. Bane put his hand out again, firmly willing his brain to behave. "Kurobane Harukaze. But seriously, Bane is fine!" 

They shook again, and Joker sounded kind of relieved when he said, "Amane Hikaru." Then he paused. He said, "Bane-san, okay." Bane made a dismissive hiss that blew his lips out. 

"Space, ya don't hafta add -san or whatever!" And Amane started, glancing about in his furtive way again. 

"But you're my senior," he said, "I just got my wings." 

Bane massaged his forehead and groaned, "I don't remember pullin' rank on ya, now did I? Gotta hit me with this senior stuff. Ah, but whatever, s'better than Chief," he said this last mostly under his breath, to himself. But Amane nodded. 

"Chief Kurobane," he said, and when Bane yelled and stamped his foot on impulse, Amane's lips just started to pucker with mischief, like he was barely holding back a laugh. Come to think of it, this was the first time Joker -- Amane -- showed any kind of emotion that resembled what he'd been like over the comms. Bane frowned, and sort-of smiled, at this strange, beautiful creature. 

"Oh, whatever, call me watcha want. You better be ready for the nickname I come up with for ya, though," Bane waved a dismissive finger in Amane's direction, "Surnames just don't work for me!" 

They moved on through to Decontamandtine, where Saeki was kind enough to reappear via comms and explain to Amane how the sterile ray works (while Bane yelled, Duh, He's Not Stupid, Sae!) and then they shuffled through the pipeline to the quarantine bay. Routine Quarantine -- Quaroutine!! Bane announced with a puffed out chest and a wink in Amane's direction -- was mainly sitting on the cots until Doc Icchan patched through his Video Comm and went through a standard visual diagnostic. 

Then, when they were cleared, Bane got to his feet, stretched his arms out above his head and groaned with it, and he said, "Welp, that's it for today. S'pose I'll see ya in Six Forward later?" Amane stood beside him just in front of the door, waiting for it to unlock, and he tilted his head at Bane and asked him what he meant without actually asking. Bane nudged Amane with his elbow, "Gotta break in a new pilot, it's practically pilot law! Yer not fit to fly til we've toasted yer maiden voyage! Y'know, knock back some Akazu -- then yer REALLY not fit to fly! -- but good old Akazu, takes the edge off the great towering void of the nothingness out in space!" Bane really said all this while laughing his regular, good-natured laugh, but Amane narrowed his eyes suddenly. For some reason, Bane thought the best idea would be to talk his way through whatever fresh awkwardness this was. "I mean, yeah, bein' a Flyboy's not so bad, sure we're always staring how insignificant we all are right in the face, but when we get back on ship -- assuming we survive," this last he said dryly, "-- we get to fill our own blank with Akazu, fucktons of it, s'like what credits were invented for, right?" 

His laugh faded off, watching the furrows in Amane's brow grow deeper. Amane said, in a measured voice, "When was your last psyche eval?" 

It caught him off guard, and because he'd just been in the mood to laugh, anyway, he laughed, first blowing air out of his closed lips, and then with a sharp and forceful, Ha!, and he practically reeled from it and held his side with his hand. "Oh PLEASE. As if anyone ever goes to them! Shit, space is spooky but I don't needta sit in front o'some… some… peppy yoga chick and be told 'It's Okay To Cry!' in order'ta do my job right!" Bane smirked and frowned at the same time and waited on Amane's reaction. But Amane didn't react. He tilted his head to the side, and was watching, full of thought. Bane sensed danger, but the blood rising up in the veins of his temples wouldn't let him back down from this, so he said, "You really wanna know the last time I sat around crying about my feelings, braiding hair and talkin' about boys? Tell ya now, I'm not that dude!" Bane puffed his chest out, but Amane said nothing, and the awkwardness was starting to churn at the pit of Bane's stomach, so he said, "Actually, I do talk about boys," and he laughed self-consciously and patted Amane's shoulder. Still nothing. "A-anyway, I was just jokin' around, alright? I'm not Space-Crazed, I'm just another Flyboy who likes a drink at the end of the night!" 

There was a pause, but Amane said, "Right, of course," and he apologised, but Bane didn't really feel vindicated by it. 

"So? We on for tonight?" Bane said, beyond ready to change the subject. 

"Oh… I can't," Amane looked around him, pointing, as if there was something concrete nearby to represent the plans he had recalled to his mind, "I have, um… I have some things…" By now, they were both frowning at each other, and Bane was ready to chalk this partnership up to a loss, and it'd only been an hour since they finished their first drill. "T-tomorrow! I can, I'm free… then?" 

Bane shook his head and shrugged, "It's pilot tradition to get bladdered after your first day! But, tomorrow's cool, I guess, since you Have A Thing." They stood around, nodding slightly at each other, waiting for the chance to part ways without making it awkward. "So, I'll… see you at drill tomorrow?" Bane offered, and Amane nodded, taking his cue with grace and scurrying out of Quarantine before circumstances required them to interact more. 

When the Acclimatisation Module had put its slight dim over the ship's lights and computer screen interfaces, and Bane was back in his cabin, eating his printed dinner between tweaking the Reserves and watching old videos of ancient sporting rites, a capsule clanked its way down the tube. Bane wiped his hands on his pants and uncased the letter. 

FOA: Chief Mechanic, Flight Officer -- Kurobane, H.  
URGENT APPOINTMENT NOTIFICATION  
Dear crewman, I am writing to inform you that you have been scheduled for an urgent appointment with a member of the ISEF Rokkaku counselling team. Your appointment will take place tomorrow at 1600 Ship Time, at the Counsellor's Office [Please see attached notice for directions]. If you will be unable to attend, please return the slip below, detailing your availability for a rescheduled appointment.

The note was signed with an illegible flourish, under which the words Chief Counsellor were printed, and dated with the code for today's Day Cycle. Bane's face grew so hot as his eyes flickered over the letter that he couldn't process it. He snarled down at it, gripping at it so hard that the paper was becoming crumpled and damp under his touch. He examined the 'Unable To Attend' slip for a loophole, an escape route, anything! But, just as the main body of the letter implied, it demanded an official (co-signed by Chief of Staff, Saeki) reason not to attend, and a date for reschedule. Bane growled at the letter with such energy, two Reserves got up from their charging docks, swishing their rear antennas and flashing question marks on their faceplates. 

"Alright, I'm alright, just pissed off! I don't need assistance, back to yer docks!" Bane flicked his hand and dismissed them. Well, how about the letter got lost in the tube? And, satisfied with this reasoning, he smashed the letter into a ball in his hands-- wait. Wait. What was that part at the bottom?-- before quickly flattening it out against the smooth casing of the Reserve he'd been fixing. There was a printed post statement, in maliciously bold type: 

PLEASE NOTE: PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS ARE MANDATORY FOR ALL DEEP SPACE PERSONNEL. THE CHIEF COUNSELLOR HAS THE ABILITY TO RELIEVE ANY ACTIVE CREWMEMBER OF DUTY IF THEY ARE DEEMED PSYCHOLOGICALLY UNFIT FOR WORK UNDER SECTION F OF ISEF ORDER 66-7. FAILURE TO ATTEND MANDATORY PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE DISMISSAL. 

Bane's stomach felt empty like he'd just had the wind kicked right out of him -- and then his windpipe remembered viscerally that he HAD been eating, and suddenly the contents of his stomach made itself known by trying to start an uprising. Bane put his hand out to trigger a cup to dispense in the printer, and punched the dial for iced water, then swallowed the whole thing down. He steadied himself, gasping up air bubbles and clutching his stomach. But sickness gave way to the burning hot flames of anger and betrayal -- that bastard, Amane!! How the fuck can anyone fly with a grass on the wing?! -- and those, too, decided on an uprising in the form of roaring out a single phrase: 

"BALL-ACHE!!" 

All the Reserves beeped awake, with question marks on their faceplates, and not even a minute passed before there was a buzz on his cabin's intercom. Bane strode over robots to the panel by the door, and the door's camera showed a wide-eyed crewman in Ops Division uniform looking up into it. Bane steadied his breathing and hit the mic. 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

The crewman's eyes were darting about, "I was just passing and I heard screaming, are you okay in there? Need me to get you to sickbay? -- Or the Counsellor's Office?" Bane's face scrunched up at the sound of his new nemesis, the Counsellor's Office. 

"I'm FINE thank you! I can get to the friggin' shrink's office without being friggin' frogmarched there, alright?!" The camera showed the crewman wincing in response to Bane's voice, but he hesitated. 

"E-even so, I--" 

"Get lost!!" Bane shut out the transmission with a great thud of his fist at the contact. That Sleep Cycle, with its creaking and clanking and questioning computers, was long. Very, very long.


	2. Mighty Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New pilots, right? Some of them can't even go a full Day-Cycle without ruffling some Feathers...

The hangar bay, with all seven of its beautiful birds, and the Mechanics Crew, and the Reserves galloping about tightening screws and welding seams, was everything Bane lived and worked for. He loved the feel of the grease on his hands and the warmth that spread out from a shower of hot sparks. He loved the way his guys and his robots came together to solve a problem, always ready for a good gossip, and always ready to replace a mug of black coffee that had been found accidentally spreading up the corner of a carelessly thrown oil rag. Bane had the comms speakers set up to blast Classical Rock music, and it would only mute itself for an incoming message -- though Bane often said he'd fix it so it wouldn't bother muting if Sae was trying to patch in! -- and every part of the daily maintenance of the fighter planes reminded Bane why he gets out of bed in a morning. Until a few weeks ago, maintenance always wrapped up when Spades made his way into the hangar for a chat… and yeah, the drill briefing from Ryoh, whatever. But today, when Bane heard the gravity lift arriving on the hangar floor, his stomach knotted. His brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, and he angled his head just right so he could be looking down his nose at Amane the moment he stepped into Bane's line of sight. 

"Uh oh," said one of Bane's deputies, nodding in Bane's direction and grinning at the other mechanics, "Chief's got his bitchface on!" 

Bane was far gone enough into a spell of his own mood that he snapped, "Don't you call me Chief!" then went straight back to aiming a murderous glare down the walkway. Then, Amane appeared at the end of it, distinguishable by his burning red hair gathered high in a ponytail. He walked a steady pace, not seeming to sense any of the murderous aura Bane was emitting, and as he passed by the fourth plane, Bane recognised a crisply presented Science Division uniform, and immediately hated it. Science Division? Pretentious fuck! So he thinks he's some kind of genius? Better than the rest of us? Bane clicked his tongue and gnashed his teeth, and the mechanics gave an impressed, oooh!, but they didn't ask for an explanation. Amane's boots rang around the hangar, and now he was within shouting distance the mechanics gave up little noises of surprise and murmured.

"Oh, not too good to show up on time today, huh?" Bane said, angling his head back to show off his snarl as he spoke, "Don't Have A Thing today, huh? Good to fuckin' know!" Amane had been walking in a straight line towards Bane, as if he'd done nothing wrong, and wasn't some shitting grass-up fuck, but when Bane addressed him, Amane slowed and stopped a few safe paces away. Smart choice, science bastard, and Bane tossed a look at his deputies to let them know that This Guy Is Not One Of Us, and We Are Absolutely Gonna Give Him Shit, but his deputies weren't looking at Bane to catch the cue. 

"Oh, hello!" one of the mechanics said, "What brings you down here?" 

Another stepped forward and said, clearing his throat, "Um… T-thank you for… the other day." Bane wheeled on him with a most dangerously cocked eyebrow.

Amane nodded at him, and pointed vaguely at Bane, his hand held no higher than his hip, and said, "I'm uh--" but the music cut out and Saeki cut in. 

Bridge to Hangar Bay. Are we all ready for drill? Ryoh's ready to brief you. 

Bane was scowling so hard his lip was curling, but when a few moments of complete silence passed and Saeki sent his message again, Bane realised that literally no one else there had the authority to answer, so he shoved his anger down 'til he could almost feel it passing down his windpipe and said, "Yeah, we read ya, Sae, we're ready." 

Today's brief was yesterday's brief: examine the asteroid belt, except with the added instruction of, 'more'. Obviously, all while showing Joker the ropes! Ryoh's slimy little laugh, and him hissing in that Symbiont way he had, you can handle that can't you, Feathers? And Bane groaned because, yeah, he could, but also, no, he couldn't, and the difference between the two marked out his exact degree of skill and professionalism. So it was Bane and Amane, in the changing room, getting into their pilot suits, and Bane had his back turned on Amane the whole time to shut down any chance for conversation. And, with the sound of a zipper working its way up a long track with a quick, heightening whine, Bane realised he'd shut down any chance at a peek as well. Well! Well, fuck him! Fuck him, not in the fun way! Ain't nobody think a grass is attractive. Jobsworths are automatically relegated to like, a 3. And Amane coughed lightly, and he said, "I'll just wait by the airlock…?" and his voice made Bane turn. With a fresh look at Amane, filling out his pilot suit so neatly, Bane was forced to recognise that even in his betrayal, Amane was still hot, and in a fit of his dick's existential crisis, Bane just yelled,

"What do I care!" and turned away, only to turn back a second later to say, "A-actually I'm ready too, don't you dare start that thing without me!"

Once the vacuum was sealed, there were no comms until they got out into the birds and Bane took full advantage of the silence to hammer home his extra standoffish body language. He stood with his arms crossed, about two centimetres away from the airlock door, nose practically pressed up against the lock control panel. With the absence of sound, it was almost as if he were in the airlock alone, but knowing he wasn't made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and his shoulder blades squirmed at his spine with the desire to turn around, but his tantrum wouldn't let him. Bane bit his lip and hoped Amane was paying full attention to how much Bane wanted him to suffer. And then they were out in space, and Saeki opened the comms, and Bane sulked and set up his controls for the drill with the most aggression and reluctance he could muster, clenching his fist and punching the buttons, even though Amane wouldn't be able to see it.

This is ISEF Rokkaku -- comms are open and operational, are you reading me, pilots? 

Yeah, Bane was reading it, but, he sat back in the cockpit chair and folded his arms, he wasn't in the mood for chitchat. The line clicked as Saeki waited on a response, and in the silence of the line, Bane knew Amane was waiting, too. Bane grinned to himself and raised his middle finger in the air at the spectral, silent image of Amane. And then, Saeki's concerned voice,

This is ISEF Rokkaku -- pilots, do you read me? Please respond. 

That snivelling jobsworth broke rank order and spoke up, "U-um. This is Joker, I read you, Rokkaku." Bane heard his voice and clasped his hand open and closed dismissively and rolled his eyes for the entertainment of absolutely no one. Then he said, "I can read comms, but I'm better at reading a PAGE… pfft. You know. Page as in that archaic kind of comms…?" Bane scowled and was nearly -- NEARLY -- tricked into making any kind of noise of disgust, but he clenched his teeth and swallowed it down.

Haha, okay… well, good, there you are Joker, I'm reading you, too. Feathers, if you read me, please respond? 

Saeki waited a few moments, and so did Ryoh, before his voice came over the line.

Feathers? Kinda need you to lead on this one, I sure hope the comms line's not broken…? 

The line filled with the sounds of buttons being pressed, and the fizz from the line refined itself, and then the high-pitched bwooooop!, of the audio clearing test. And then Saeki said,

Nope, as far as I can tell Feathers' comms line is functional, transmitting AND receiving…? Feathers, respond? 

Bane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Feathers, reading, whatever, don't get yer panties in a bunch, fuck's sake." There was a pause, then the sound of Saeki and Ryoh laughing. Bane pictured them exchanging looks and making faces at his expense, so he said, "Shut up!" 

Switching you to helm, pilots. 

Saeki laughed, and Ryoh signed on. 

Check who got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning! Well, this is probably the fastest it's ever happened with a new pilot, Joker, but the drill today will be a bit… special. 

Bane didn't like the patronising way Ryoh said that last word. 

Feather's in one of his Moods today, better to let him cool off. I'll walk through the drill with you, Joker.

Bane smacked his clenched fist against the armrest of his seat, "What! A dude's gotta right to be angry! Bein' a pilot ain't a fuckin' JOKE, you gotta trust yer wingman's got yer back! I already wanna fly into the nearest sun as it is, I don't needta waste time drillin' with some asshole who's gonna get me killed!" There was, understandably, a long silence after this outburst. 

Bane, it's like his second day? Chill. 

The informality of Ryoh's message probably deserved the informal use of Bane's real name. Or, maybe, the lack of professionalism in Bane's message definitely deserved an informal reply. But Ryoh picked it up again to his normal style,

Also, hot tip, Feathers? Might wanna watch what you say, kusukusu… 

"Yeah, don't I fuckin' know it," Bane said, and then he hit mute on his helmet's mic and got on with the mapping.

The airlock procedure for boarding the Rokkaku was much less awkward now Bane didn't want to talk. The lights blinked on, and Bane went on staring at it, until whenever HE blinked, he saw soft pulses of green on the backs of his eyelids. Then he and Amane hit the corridor where they had introduced themselves for the first time just the day before, and Bane's peripheral view of Amane's arms, reaching for the fastens on the neck of his suit, told him that Amane was removing his helmet. Bane skipped in the low-grav, gliding along the corridor to Decontamandtine, helmet still firmly on and Amane still stalled behind him. 

Saeki dropped into the comms again, to go over the Decontamination process with Amane. Well, probably. Bane guessed this from Amane's body language -- nodding, his mouth opening and closing, uncertain gestures to the Decontam fixtures and controls, and swift glances over his shoulder at Bane, probably once he remembered that Saeki didn't have visuals on them. Bane muscled his way past Amane to the controls and set the process going with a slam of his fist against the panel, and Amane nodded with a meek understanding, like he might've said, Ohhh, THAT button, gotcha. But the timer on the panel wound down, and the word "OK!" flashed up in green on the door that would open out onto the corridor that led to the Quaroutine bay.

Standard procedure was to deposit pilot suit helmets into the receptacle in Decontamination, where they were sprayed again with the sterile rays, and cleaned with antibio in case the on-duty pilots were flying with an infectious case of the nasties. Amane had, of course, already sent his helmet off for cleaning, and was standing in front of the Quaroutine door and fidgeting, waiting for Bane. Bane stood with the visor of his helmet pointed straight at Amane, arms crossed and tapping an inpatient index finger against his upper arm. Amane took the hint. Even so, with Amane out of the room entirely, Bane felt reluctant as he unclipped his helmet from the fastens on the neck of his suit, and all the creaking and clanging of the ship surged into his ears as he removed it. The little, "Please. Proceed. To. Routine. Quarantine." voice of the unlocked door, and the little bleeps that came with each button press Bane made, giving the machine instructions on how to clean his helmet, were so urgent to his ears they stung a little, and Bane drove the ball of his palm against his ear to soothe it. 

He dragged his heels along the pipeline to Quaroutine, even in low-grav, and by the time he pushed the contact for the exam room door, Icchan was halfway done with Amane's diagnostic. Bane shuffled his way onto one of the cots, letting all of his body slump, so the atmosphere of the room read his frustration. And then Icchan's screen blinked open in front of Bane, and Bane stood to attention for his exam. "Everything looks good from here, Bane," Icchan said, looking down at something that Bane couldn't see from his side of the comm's range of vision, "All anomalies seem to be purely emotional... at least, you're cleared to leave Quarantine." Bane scoffed and Icchan looked back up at him. "Well, terrible attitudes are nasty and can be infectious, but usually the best thing for them is to mingle with others, so I'll let you go, just this once." When Icchan joked, he joked with the brightest, warmest smile he could manage, and it was difficult to quibble with it. 

The video comm closed, and Bane breathed out a sigh, relieved to be on his own -- and then he saw out of the corner of his eye, that he WASN'T. FUCKING. ALONE. He wheeled around to Amane with the sort of automatic disgust you have for someone who was refusing to take the hint that you hate them with good grace, and Bane opened his mouth to issue a very clear statement about it once and for all… but. But then, he grumbled to himself, Fuck's Sake!!, and shoulder-barged past Amane through the door and strode quickly to the locker room. Yesterday, he'd had the decency to hang back, pop his head around the door to the hangar and ask the boys how the birds were faring after their flight, sensing that Amane and he had been All Talked Out after their awkward exchange in Quaroutine. Today, Bane expected a similar decency from Amane. Which didn't come. Amane stepped quickly after Bane, keeping on his heel and trying to get eye contact, all the way to the lockers. Then Bane made the most aggressive show of peeling off a skin-tight body suit and pulling his naked torso hurriedly out of it, in an act of, When Not To Try And Make Eye Contact 101, but he felt Amane's eyes following him all the same. Finally, the throbbing in Bane's temples built up the boiling of his blood, and with the top half of his pilot suit dangling low from his hip, he turned on Amane, sleeve cuffs dusting the floor as he moved. 

"What!?" Bane barked this out with all the volume and force he could muster, but Amane didn't even blink. "Got a problem, huh!?" 

Amane kept his voice and the framing of his incredible body, calm and unshaken. "Are you okay?" he said, in a voice that was quiet but didn't lack self-assurance. And Bane hated it. 

"Am I okay?? No! No, I'm not okay! Are we done? Thanks for asking, asshole!" Bane folded his arms and had half a mind to turn away, but he noticed, in the way Amane held his hand under his chin, that he was watching, and thinking, and Bane said, "Alright, ya wanna know why I'm not okay?? I'll tell you why not -- You don't fucking grass on yer partner, is why!" Bane leaned backwards, looking under his eyelids at Amane, waiting for him to realise what he'd done wrong. 

Amane frowned, and tilted his head, and he opened his mouth to say, "I…?" and Bane didn't let him finish. 

"I don't give a SHIT if yer a good pilot or not, I couldn't give a damn if ya never wanted to hang out or chitchat outta the birds! Work is work, you do what ya gotta, but where the hell you get off shoppin' me in, huh??" Bane waited for his apology as he rolled the rest of his pilot suit away from his body and stepped out of it. He tore his Ops Division overalls out of the locker where he'd left them and smacked the locker closed with a metallic bang. 

"I'm not sure I know exactly--?" Amane said, eventually, and Bane cut him off with a hard click of his tongue. 

"I 'unno where the fuck you crawled out of, see, here on this ship?" Bane stopped in the middle of putting his arms through the holes of his vest to point both his index fingers down to the floor, "we don't take someone's awkward small talk and run to tell the whole damn ship about it!" Bane finished dressing in a kind of violent lunge, and he picked his boots up from the bench behind him and made for the door. Amane seemed to realise Bane was leaving, and he turned after him with an air of panic. Bane stopped at the door, "But, whatever, dude. The fuck knows, right? At least I'll never have to work with you again if the counsellor ships me back to join the System Failures, huh?" 

Amane seemed to call something out as the door slid open, but Bane was beyond caring. 

There was writing above the door of the Counsellor's Office, identifying it as such, but the door itself seemed to be permanently slid aside. There was a door panel beside it, for locking and opening, but the display stayed a welcoming green. It meant that Bane couldn't hesitate outside for too long without who the fuck ever inside seeing him and thinking he was chickenshit. So he stepped through, and realised, with the rush of unfamiliarity, that he had genuinely never been to the Counsellor's Office once since he'd been contracted on the mission. Yeah, he'd never Been To A Counselling Appointment, but as the dude mostly responsible for patching up the ship in all sorts of weird ways, it was freaky to suddenly find a room he'd never even visited. 

There was a sort of scent to the air filtration, it wasn't strong enough to really resemble anything Bane could think of, but at the same time, it was different from the corridor he was just in. Strawberry? Lavender? Bane wrinkled his nose and sniffed. Flowers or some shit, bubble tea spilt over a hot yoga mat, probably. Not that it was a gross smell. Bane turned his head -- on the same wall as the door were a row of soft chairs, and tucked up in one of those was a troubled-looking woman, wrapped in some kind of blanket or shawl, and sniffling into a tissue. She didn’t look up at Bane, so Bane turned his face away, discreetly. The wall opposite the chairs had large windows, but they'd been filtered over with viewscreens, so instead of stars, Bane was looking out onto the softly waving branches of a pink cherry-blossom tree in bloom, and as they moved he heard them creak and poke at the glass, they way they do on Earth. Window viewscreens weren't unusual for deep space missions, because they say humans need certain types of light, certain types of scenery, and that they 'improve overall mood', and as Bane remembered this he tried not to scoff. Nice try, Counsellor's Office! The viewscreen seemed to dye the whole room in a kind of gentle pink light, and Bane thought it was quite nice, just before he loudly thought that it was Stupid. 

There was another door on the right-hand wall, quite close to the one that led in from the corridor, but this one had a red, 'Please Wait' display. Just ahead of the entrance Bane had come through was a desk, which had a beverage printer and a large, cuboid non-mobile robotic unit on top of it. He approached the robot. "I um, I have an appointment?" Bane said, standing in the range of the robot's optical sensor. 

"Welcome, I am an Office Personal Assistant Unit, User designation: Pierre. Please present Crewmember identification or Biometric identification before the indicated scanners." A card slot and a fingerprint panel lit up green on Pierre's UI. Bane gave Pierre a gentle pat on the fingerprint panel. The loading symbol turned and Bane waited. Then a piece of paper slid out of another slot on Pierre's front. "Thank you, Patient! You are now booked into your appointment with," and the sound of his voice chip changed eerily as he found the custom phrase, "Chief Counsellor." Then his voice returned to his normal style, "Please take your appointment card. The number on your appointment card will be announced when the -- Chief Counsellor -- is ready to see you." Bane had nodded along with this, and turned to go, when Pierre sounded up again, "If you require emergency medication, please press the highlighted button now." Bane frowned, and saw a green and a red button light up. He pushed the red button. "Thank you. Feel free to print a no-credit drink while you wait. Please take a seat." 

Bane stood on his tip-toes and peered down at the printer: it only prints non-stimulant drinks, like herbal tea or water, and Bane pulled his smile tight with disdain. Of fuckin' course. But then he noticed the last few items: hot milk and honey, hot chocolate, stuff like that. Luxury prints! Bane put his hands on his hips and clamped his fingers at his waist to stop them from keying in an order. Man, Bane was in no way a sweets dude but Free Luxury Prints were hard to resist anywhere. And the display against the side door beeped as it switched over from 'Please Wait' to 'Please Knock', and Bane turned in time to see the guy leaving the office, looking over his shoulder, waving and chattering, "Okay!! See you again!!" 

It wasn't the Counsellor. 

Bane had just about gathered himself when the Captain turned around from the door, took in the biggest gasp his lungs could manage, and said in a voice that in no way respected patient confidentiality, "Ohh my gosh!! Bane-san!! It's been so long!!" He jogged through the waiting room, swerving into a tailspin to avoid the distressed lady who had stood up in response to the number Sixty--Five, juddering out of the PA unit in his cheery pre-recorded voice. And the Captain stopped to bow to the lady as she passed, "Crewman," he said, careful enough not to announce HER name, Bane noticed, and then the Captain picked up where he left off. Which was hurling his entire body at Bane. 

"C-careful, we're in High-G!" Bane said, just about reacting fast enough to catch him in a hug. 

"Aww, you missed me!" The Captain chirped, "You're always grumpy when you've missed me!" and Bane made a face at the word 'grumpy' over the Captain's shoulder, but he didn't comment. And the Captain didn’t release him from the hug, so Bane dusted the very top of his head with a reluctant hand. 

"What're ya doin' down here, Kentaroh?" Bane said, carefully prising himself free of Kentaroh's arms, "Did someone complain about the Counsellor or somethin'?" He tried not to sound too hopeful. 

"What! Who would do that?" Kentaroh's eyes were wide, and then they narrowed with disappointment, "I love the Counsellor… I always go to chat every week! Don't you?" He said this with such a peppy, singsong tone that Bane knew all his suspicions and predictions about the Counsellor were suddenly correct: she's a woman, no doubt. 

"Iunno," Bane said, knowing the answer his superior should be hearing is 'yes', but being unable to say as much. And Kentaroh looked at him thoughtfully, so he said, "W-well, yeah, not like I've got a complaint about 'er or nothin'? I just…" 

"Oh! Well then, nope! I was just here for my appointment!" Kentaroh laughed. "Hey, dontcha think the cherry blossoms are really pretty?" He said, with a gasp of wonder on his voice that made his words a pitch higher than they were already. Bane just about muttered, I guess, when Kentaroh's loud, ecstatic voice cut him off "BUT, not for much longer!! Because guess what I'm putting us into as soon as we start the next week cycle??" 

Bane shrugged politely. 

"SUMMER!!" Kentaroh skipped on the spot as he said it, "And you know what summer means?"

"Holo-beach!" Bane managed to catch him so they spoke in unison. 

"You bet!!" Kentaroh bunched his fists into balls like he was trying to contain his excitement in them, "So you better come play with me on Holo-beach opening day!!" 

"Don't be stupid, I'd never miss Holo-beach opening day!!" Bane reached out to punch Kentaroh lightly on the shoulder, a grin spreading right over his face, and Kentaroh chuckled (and winced, and massaged his arm). "About damn time! Space, that's really the best thing I've heard in like…" Bane trailed off, counting off his fingers, "Wait, what's the code for this Day-Cycle? I don't even remember…" 

Kentaroh leaned on the Counselling reception desk, trailing patterns over the surface with a dejected finger, "Well y'know… when we were coming to the end of the Autumn Acclimatisation, I was gonna put us back into summer, but SAE-SAN wouldn't let me!!" He looked up at Bane with his big round eyes all soft and sad, and Bane put his hands on his hips and shook his head. 

"That's a joke-- didn't you put him in the brig for mutiny??" And the serious expression the both of them managed to carry during this conversation was what finally tipped them both over into fits of hysterics, and they doubled over, clutching at their waists and wiping tears out of their eyes. When they'd finally regained their composure, Kentaroh whined,

"Bane-san… I missed you! You really better come play with me on the beach!" and before Bane could reassure him, Kentaroh said, "I sure hope all the girls come to the opening day…! I'm gonna impress them with my diving!" 

Bane chuckled at him, "Well, if they don't, you can always holo some up, right?" and he gave Kentaroh a little playful shove, "Program them to flirt with you!" Kentaroh's hurt and betrayed face made a second appearance. 

"That just makes it sound like none of the real girls on the ship would ever flirt with me!! Don't be rude!!" and Bane laughed at him. "Still, it does feel good when holo girls give you attention…" Kentaroh seemed to be floating off into a world of his own recollection and Bane wrinkled his nose a little bit, but hey, each to his own, right? And the door beeped, and out came the distressed crewman, except her eyes were dry now, and she walked straight with her head up, and she nodded to Kentaroh on her way out. 

The smile faded right off Bane's face. Dicking about with Kentaroh had made him forget entirely why he was there and what he'd spent the whole Day-Cycle worrying about, and he frowned to make up for lost time. And the seconds passed by very slowly while Bane's lizard brain tried to convince him he could still back out. And finally, the robot on the desk said, Sixty--Six, and Bane looked hopelessly at his appointment slip, as if his number might have magically changed through sheer force of dread, but it hadn't, and when he looked up, he saw Kentaroh looking at him. "Ah, that's, uh-- That's me, I guess," Bane waved his slip in the air and Kentaroh nodded. 

"Shame!! Well I better see you on the beach!" Kentaroh pointed his fingers at Bane as he headed for the corridor, "And say hi to him from me!" He beamed one last smile at Bane before disappearing out of the door. 

And Bane stepped up to the Office door, and knocked.


End file.
